Sweet Misery
by Cassandra Mulder
Summary: Buffy can't stop thinking about Spike.


Title: Sweet Misery  
  
Author: Cassandra Mulder  
  
E-mail/Feedback: I live on the stuff! dana_mulder32@yahoo.com  
  
Written: December 7, 2001  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Up through season 6 "Smashed".  
  
Disclaimer: "Buffy" belongs to Joss Whedon, the folks at Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, and UPN. This is the work of an insomniac who owns nothing, and no profit is being made.  
  
Summary: Buffy can't stop thinking about Spike.  
  
Classification: Buffy POV; angst  
  
Distribution: You can have it if you want it, but you gotta ask me first!  
  
Author's Notes: This is a little something I jotted down last night for a project I have going with a friend of mine called The Slayer Diaries. You can find that at http://vmprslyr.diaryland.com Come visit us, we'd like that. ;) Hope you enjoy, angst ahead!  
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I laugh at myself as I think of last night. Why? Because I'm an idiot.  
  
  
I sat on my bed, knees drawn up to my chest, surrounded by crosses, garlic, holy water...  
  
  
I don't know what I was thinking. That he'd come after me? That Spike was really going to come to my house, jump through the window, and attack me? And all along I knew he wouldn't. Not only is it not his style, he's still too pissed off at me to come anywhere near me.  
  
  
Everything's just falling apart lately, to the extreme. Willow was in the next room, going through withdrawal pains that I wouldn't have even begun to know how to help her with.  
  
  
I had some of my own to deal with.  
  
  
I wish I could've gone and told her that she will get over magick so much easier than I'll get over Spike. And that if she can kick the habit, she might even get Tara back. But I couldn't tell her any of that, because no one can ever know about what we did.  
  
  
Me? Spike is the habit. If I kick that one, I don't get anything. All I get is alone, just like it's always been. I could fill this house to bursting with people, and I would still be alone. I'm starting to think it's my only destiny.  
  
  
Spike was right though, damn him. He's always right. About everything. I want him. I need him. Every part of me is screaming out his name, and I have to tell it all to shut the hell up. My punching bag has been bearing the brunt of it. I have never felt so much like beating the crap out of stuff. I split it open today. Poor Xander doesn't know what's going on. He said he'd buy me a new one.  
  
  
Spike should have to buy me a new one.  
  
  
I just don't know what it is about him. Why this is happening. Why can't I be attracted to normal people?! Just Joe Average, with a pulse, and a heartbeat, and a day job? Instead of Mr. Platinum Blonde Wannabe Punk, who is so frustrating, annoying, obnoxious, and completely freaking irresistible.  
  
  
I want to die.  
  
  
Again.  
  
  
Anything would be better than this.  
  
  
For awhile there I wanted heaven back. Now when I think of anything I could have in this crummy world, it's that surreal oblivion where it was just me and Spike, the house falling down around us and neither of us giving a crap. It's all I can think about, and it's slowly driving me insane. I'll bet that bastard even knows it. He knew I would want him again, that I couldn't live without him.  
  
  
But why can't I?  
  
  
He's dead. To me, the world, he's dead, but in that moment I had never felt more alive. I felt everything all knotted up inside me till I couldn't hold it in anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if my screams are what brought part of that house down. It wasn't just Spike making me scream though. I was screaming out all the pain, the anger, the misery. The misery that is my newly resurrected life.  
  
  
He's part of that misery. Maybe the best part, I have to admit that to myself, but he's still in the misery category.   
  
  
Sweet misery, I think they call it.  
  
  
I could get lost in him forever. It would be so very, very easy to just let him take care of me the way he wants to. I don't care what I say or do to his face, I trust him. I trust him with my life, I trusted him with Dawn's. He may have failed to save me on that day, but he was about to die trying to save us both. He didn't have to. He wanted to. He *had* to, because for whatever crazy reason, he chose to love me and Dawn. I still don't know why, but he does.  
  
  
That's the only thing that's sustained me at all since I came back. I owe him so much, and yet I can't help thinking how wrong it all is.  
  
  
Although I'm quickly losing the wrongs to the rights. 


End file.
